


It's Too Early For This

by hiddenlongings



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, or at least an attempt at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: The morning after the night before.





	It's Too Early For This

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything worthwhile in a really long time. At this point I just want to get something put to paper, so to speak. Hopefully I'll be able to dig myself out of the creative black hole that I've been sucked into and actually write some real stories. For now have a fluffy scene and I hope you enjoy.

Harry picked his way carefully across the floor. The gleaming wooden floor was dotted with the occasional hard to see landmine of discarded clothing. He managed to seamlessly slip past a dark leather dress shoe, overturned on its side and laces loose and spooling on the floor. The unraveled bow tie, nearly torn in half from a fit of impatient violence, was soft under his heel and no obstacle. 

The treacherous dress shirt, that was half hidden underneath the dresser near the door, proved to be his undoing. The hard pinch of the side of a button dug deeply enough into the arch of his foot that Harry hissed sharply and his instinctive flinch had his arms windmilling as he fought for balance.

He managed to keep from falling over like a felled redwood only because a helpful wall was there to catch him with a palpable thud. He hit hard enough to rattle the glass in the windows. Harry’s hands clenched into fists and he let his forehead gently tap the, thankfully sturdy, drywall a couple of times.

“Dresden?”

The low rumbling purr was a little sleep fogged and a lot amused and Harry had a hard time turning around to face his fate. 

So he didn’t.

“Marcone.”

Harry’s voice was slightly muffled since his face was still pressed into the wall but he figured John would be able to recognize his own name well enough.

“The doorways about three feet to your right. If that’s what you were aiming for.”

Harry let his hand unclench long enough to give the space behind him a thumbs up.

“Actually, I was aiming for the bathroom.”

Some previously unnoticed tension in the room seeped out of the air and John’s voice warmed even further.

“To your left about five feet and down the hall.”

Less worried now about waking up any sleeping mob bosses Harry strode across the room and towards the hallway. His voice echoed a little as he stepped into the bathroom.

“Just so you know, it’s weird to have a hallway leading to your bathroom.”

“Try not to break my hot water heater again Harry.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with avarice as he eyed the sunken tub in front of him.

“No promises.”


End file.
